She instructed Dorothea to prop several pillows behind Gwen’s back and hold her hands tightly.
And thus the long vigil began. The minutes slid into hours. At one point the maids began lighting the candles and Dorothea realized night was approaching. And still Gwendolyn screamed and panted and labored to deliver her babies.
Knowing bravado was needed, Dorothea kept up a steady stream of encouragement. At times she doubted Gwen could even hear her, but she continued to speak, rattling off happy stories from their childhood, recalling fond memories of their parents.
It was loud and messy and monstrously frightening but the miracle of life would not be denied and, with her ebbing strength, Gwen at last pushed her children into the world.
“A boy and a girl. Fancy that,” Mrs. Johnson muttered as she washed the afterbirth from the scrawny bodies of the protesting infants.
“Are they all right?” Gwen whispered.
Dorothea turned and craned her neck. “I can see their arms waving and their legs moving,” she reported with a lopsided grin. Never had she felt such a giddy sense of relief.
The bedchamber door opened. Dorothea fully expected to see her brother-in-law, but instead Emma hovered hesitantly in the doorway, her eyes blinking uncertainly. “I thought I heard…oh, dear, the baby has arrived!” Emma’s joyful expression quickly turned to puzzlement. “Two babies?”
Dorothea puffed out her cheeks. “You know our Gwen. She never does anything in half-measures.”
The midwife and her assistant brought the babies to the bed. Dorothea and Emma eagerly crowded close to get a proper look.
“Would you like to hold them?” Mrs. Johnson asked Gwendolyn. “I need to go and find your husband and tell him the good news.”
Gwen shook her head. “I fear my arms are too weak right now. Give them to my sisters instead.”
Emma squealed with delight and reached out with both arms for the nearest babe, but Dorothea hesitated. Without waiting for her consent, Mrs. Johnson laid a swaddled bundle into Dorothea’s arms. The infant nestled quietly for a few moments, then suddenly arched its back and turned its head in a frantic attempt to find her breast.
“Ah, this must be your son,” Dorothea said with a smile.
She placed the knuckle of her little finger near the babe’s mouth and he greedily latched on, sucking furiously. Meanwhile, the baby girl in Emma’s arms slept quietly and contentedly.
Jason entered the room, barreling past the maids clustered near the bed. Mrs. Johnson followed behind him. “Is she all right?” he asked the midwife. “Truly?”
“She is exhausted and jubilant, as only a new mother can be,” Mrs. Johnson remarked as she gathered a pile of soiled linens and pressed them on one of the maids.
“But she will recover, will she not? You told me she would recover,” Jason insisted, his voice rising.
“Do not carry on so, my love,” Gwendolyn scolded in a tired voice. “You will frighten our children.”
At the sound of Gwendolyn’s voice, Jason froze. His eyes darted worriedly down to his wife. Dorothea could see his throat move as he swallowed, struggling to compose himself.
“Come, Jason, and greet your son and daughter,” Dorothea said merrily, hoping to lighten the somber mood.
Her brother-in-law glanced toward the infants, his expression distracted. “In a moment.” He sat on the edge of Gwendolyn’s bed, then gently gathered her into his arms. He held her thus for a long time before Dorothea noticed his shoulders were shaking. With a start, she realized he was crying.
Turning away from the intimate moment, she walked near the window, the baby snuggled happily in her arms. Emma did the same. In unison, the new aunts began rocking to and fro, delighted to discover the babies liked it.
“Forgive the interruption.”
Dorothea tore her gaze away from the baby and found Carter standing in front of her. “You are not interrupting,” Dorothea bustled. “This is a family moment we are all thrilled to be sharing. Gwendolyn has safely delivered her babies. Look, this is her son.”
She angled her arms and raised the baby so Carter could get a good view of the child. His expression turned curious. She smiled encouragingly and he inched forward, touching his finger to the baby’s hand. At the contact, the infant’s perfectly formed fingers curled around it.
“He’s very small,” Carter whispered.
“And red and wrinkled and sporting tufts of dark hair on his head,” she whispered back before kissing the baby’s forehead. “One would think with two such attractive parents he would look far less like a little troll.”
Carter smiled. “An apt description, I’m afraid.”
Dorothea nodded. “I vow our children will be much prettier, though I would never say so in front of my sisters.”
It gave Dorothea a warm, tingly feeling to be speaking of children. After seeing the hell Gwendolyn had endured, she was hardly anxious to experience it herself, but holding the precious bundle of life was slowly changing her mind. Here was something filled with promise and possibilities. The reward was honestly worth the price.
Suddenly the baby stiffened his torso, screwed up his face, and let out a loud, lusty wail. The noise startled his sister and she joined in with a distinct squalling of her own.
“I think they want their mama,” Emma said nervously. She scurried to the bed and handed the infant into Gwen’s waiting arms.
“And their papa, too,” Dorothea added. Before Jason had a chance to say anything, she tucked the noisy bundle into his arms.
His startled look of panic was comical. The bedchamber door opened again and Jason’s brother, Lord Fairhurst, entered the room. His resemblance to Jason was nothing short of remarkable, for they too were twins.
“I thought I heard a familiar sound,” Lord Fairhurst said as he drew near. His expression grew wistful when he saw the babies and Dorothea imagined he was thinking of his own child born earlier in the year.
“I’m a father,” Jason announced in a slightly dazed voice.
“Two at once, heh.” Lord Fairhurst chuckled. “Excellent job, Gwendolyn. My heartiest congratulations to you both.”
They all spent a few more minutes fussing over the infants before the babies began crying again.
“I think it’s best if we leave the new parents alone,” Carter said. He set one hand on Dorothea’s shoulder and the other on Emma’s and urged them out of the room. “There will be plenty of time to admire the new arrivals in the morning.”
Once in the hallway, Emma hugged Dorothea tightly, then declared she was off to bed. Lord Fairhurst announced he would wait to see his brother again before retiring. As they walked toward the bedchamber that had been hastily prepared for them, Carter and Dorothea were met by the butler, who inquired if they were in need of anything.
“Please have a tray of food sent to our room,” Carter requested. “I’ve already eaten, but Lady Atwood has not.”
The exhaustion hit Dorothea full force once they entered the bedchamber. She dismissed the maid and allowed Carter to help her into a white linen nightgown packed in her trunk. By the time the food arrived, she was yawning repeatedly.
“I’m too exhausted to eat,” Dorothea declared when Carter tried to tempt her with a piece of roasted chicken. “All I want is a warm, comfortable bed.”
To prove her point, Dorothea climbed into the four-poster bed, snuggling beneath the blankets. She heard Carter rustle about the room as he disrobed. Then he slid beneath the covers and tucked himself close to her. Dorothea sighed with contentment and wrapped herself in his arms, settling into the perfect position. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come, and then suddenly her stomach growled loudly.
She felt Carter’s hand lightly stroke the lower half of her arm. “You should eat something,” he said. “It will make you feel better.”
Shaking her head, she turned and nibbled on his broad chest. “I’m too tired to eat.”
“Hmm. I could say something appallingly crude, but I will restrain myself.”
“I appreciate it.”
